


curtain call

by ninata



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Chapter 5 Spoilers, Gen, Resubmitted, and some sad gonta and ouma feelings, the smallest hint of saiou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: Kokichi Ouma has a conversation with himself. (Edited and resubmitted, chapter 5/endgame spoilers. read notes for warnings/real summary)





	curtain call

**Author's Note:**

> yeah ok so this is about ouma's death. cool. there's a lot of uh...headcanoning off of his like two lines in the prologue and, y'know. if you've read anything else by me about pregame ouma it's The Same Shit.  
> warnings for: suicide, suicide idealization, so much suicide, mentions of child abuse, brief allusion to self harm

There's a quiet little voice that's been getting louder in the back of Kokichi's head.

Not the kind you hear about in bad murder mysteries, the split personalities that stretch the diagnosis thin. No sneezing and switching, nothing alien or monstrous, no divine entity holing itself up in his brain. Just a little nagging voice, one Kokichi wants to shut out entirely.

His arm itches, so he goes ahead and scratches, body lurching at the motion. Long, wet lines. Feels raw. Feels like it shouldn't be scratched. _It's a good thing._ Shut up. He blinks away the red in his vision.

 _You got yourself into this mess,_ the voice urges softly, hushed by the fear of retribution. _You can get yourself out. You know the way._ Momota crawls out of the press, Kokichi can't manage a smile. The perfect mask has cracked, and the hatred he feels is so strong, it could materialize and put him out of his misery itself. He never wanted to slip. He never wanted it to get to this point.

"You're sure?" Momota says.

"Y-Yeah." Kokichi lets spit drip down his chin. The cold sweat goes well with it. They suit each other. Shooting pain whenever he moves, like he's straining threads. It'll tear. He wants it to. "I was...always sure."

How does a normal person imagine their death will go? Kokichi would like to say he'd be taken out by an assassin. He'd be poisoned in his sleep, covertly sniped when he's out in public. But that's a lie, isn't it? Missing a trap on a mission, falling off a building during an escape, blasted to death by lasers or shot to death by the coppers. But that's a lie, too, isn't it?

 _It was always going to be like this._ The voice says in a whisper. _I was always...going to kill myself. It was just a question of when._

He doesn't like that. He's weak kneed, unable to stay standing, standing anyway. Staring at the paused camera, at the mess he's caused for himself. Momota walks to his side, shouldering him over to the press. He can feel his pity. He hates it, wiping his chin with his bandaged hand.

The mysteries kept multiplying, eventually it grew tiresome. _You miss him, don't you…? Sorry, was that too presumptuous?_ Kokichi had no strength left for theories, for meddling and manipulating, for any of this stupid circus. This was his last lie, and that was that.  The mastermind would never solve this mystery. Not with the preparations he made. _Everyone hates you now, after all...it must be miserable. I never wanted it to be like this ever again…_

He smacks his head. Momota doesn't notice. He wishes he could find whatever the source of this voice was and stomp on it 'til it died. _That's cruel…_ Oh, shut up. The banter is driving him insane.

"Are you ready?" Momota asks, and Kokichi nods. He wonders if he should take off his shoes first, but then it'd be a proper suicide, wouldn't it? He refuses to give this that kind of feeling. _You don't want to call it what it is, huh? I understand that. I wouldn't want them to know either…_ Momota helps him lie down on the press, jacket padding his entry. His stomach twists into a knot at the movement. He stares at the metal slab above him.

It'll crush him flat, it will. This really is it. No more jokes, no lies here. This is where it ends for him, and he can't pinpoint how he feels. Tired? Sad? Angry? Relief?

Relief.

He hates that it's relief somewhere in there.

_ Even if you became the most wonderful person on the planet...even if you became the loudest, funniest, most interesting person Kokichi Ouma could be… _

_ Everyone hates you. _

_ That's how it'll always be, how fate works. You...were always going to end up back to this, miserable and alone. _

_ You know what you have to do. You know what your only option is. You can't just keep running away. _

Kokichi stares at the metal slab above him.

It's trickled in slowly, since the poison settled into his system. Days where he went to school, taking the train in every morning. Not tall enough to properly hold onto the hanging straps, clinging to the poles by the doors as the crowds swayed. Sitting at home studying for hours on end.

He remembers his parents, too— a palm making contact with his cheek, a foot making contact with his stomach. How they raised him to hate himself. How they made him pursue an education he didn't care about, a career he had no ambition towards. Everyone looking down on him. Everyone always looked down on him.

_You have to do the right thing._

He isn't sure where the memories are coming from, but wasn't this just more of the same? No matter what he did, it was pointless. It made everyone hate him. Supposedly, it was all to entertain—  but was it? To whom? Why was he lying? Why was he doing this? It felt foreign. It felt forced. He didn't want this anymore. None of it made sense, none of the mysteries added up. A broken world? The remainder of humanity? The flashback lights, the tiny bugs, Monokuma's insistence on rules. It wasn't worth it anymore. Messing with other people, jumping through hoops, juggling, eating fire, trying to lead them in the right direction all while getting cursed out and threatened...

Pain's in his muscle memory. Being hit, being pushed around, being spat on and laughed at, that was second nature. He hated that. He hated it so much, it made him sick. Why was it like this? What was wrong with him?

Ah, it's tiring. It's fucking boring. He'll bow out respectfully, then.

_I never wanted to be alive. Why did they make me suffer like this when I didn't even ask for it? Why does everyone look at me like that? Think of me as lower than them? Am I not worthy of common decency? No...n-no, of course not. Why would I be?_

_I can't stand how they treat me. I can't live like this. I can't keep getting up when they shove me to the ground and kick me until I throw up. If it's always going to be like this, death will be merciful._

_Yeah...that's right. I can die, just like everyone always wanted me to. I can die, just like I was always supposed to._

Kokichi stares at the metal slab above him.

Two people tried to talk to him in a friendly way. One was now dead because of Kokichi, and the other was so easily impressionable, he probably hated Kokichi now, too. Gonta was gone, speared through the torso and burned to death. With all that hair, the smell was disgusting. _You wanted to die too, then. Didn't you?_ Monokuma wouldn't listen to him. Wouldn't let him die. But, then again, wasn't that to be expected? The only person who ever listened to him died like a dog.

Saihara was just as unreliable as the rest of them. Kokichi's feelings couldn't reach his stupid thick skull. _You're right. He is unreliable. So do what you have to do, and die like you're supposed to._ He didn't trust that guy, anyway.  No matter what he said, kind things, cruel things, Saihara didn't see the truth. Some kind of detective, right? Or was Kokichi such a great liar, it didn't matter?

Nobody could figure him out?

Nobody could see who he was, no matter what?

Pain brings it all back. A false timidity, a false happiness, sadness and anger and violence he couldn't ever express. Soul crushing apathy, razor blades, cigarette burns. It hurts, still stings like it did then, confirms all the more that his life was always forfeit. Nobody wanted him to live, least of all himself.

_Are you ready now? D-Don't worry, it'll hurt, but it'll be so nice when it's over. Don't you want to sleep?_

It'll be boring, won't it? It'll be so boring.

_It's okay. You'll be happier, won't you? We always wanted to die. This is for the best. Nothingness is better than boredom._

Was his happiness really such a burden? Was he really so hard to understand? Was everyone's hatred justified?

_I don't know if I want that answer...if it was, if it wasn't...does it matter? Either way, it makes me glad I'm dying._

Doesn't he want revenge?

_This is my revenge. Monokuma will never be able to tell the culprit, let alone the victim. They'll all vote incorrectly, and they'll...m-maybe they'll even feel bad they pushed me this far. Maybe she will feel bad she hurt me. Maybe...maybe everyone will feel bad when they realize I wasn't the...  
_

Didn't he deserve to be happy?

_...That's…_

Hey, didn't he deserve to be happy too?

_You should've known that you never could be. We never could…_

_I-It's better this way. Nothing ever went right, and it never will. Just give up._

...Giving up sounds nice.

_I guess it really was asking too much. Wanting to be able to smile like everyone else...wanting to have a loving family to come home to, and...and hot meals to look forward to. Home-made bento, and, a-and friends that make me feel accepted… That's too much for the fucking scum on this planet._

_It was me. It was always me. Those things were possible for other people, but never for me. I should've known that I could never be happy. Is it because I'm too afraid to fight back? They knew they could get away with hurting me. I'm convenient like that. I'm not human to them._

Kokichi struggles to raise his hand, turning it in the air. His vision smears, blurs, colors bleeding together. The dressing around his cut finger looks technicolor, and drops to his side once he tires of looking at it.

He closes his eyes.

_Die like you're supposed to. Die, and never dread waking up in the morning ever again. Never start crying when glass breaks, never panic when someone raises their voice. Never feel distant, never feel different, never feel like intelligence is a curse more than a blessing. You'll never have to stay up all night studying again, and you'll never have to worry about college entrance exams. You won't have to keep putting in effort to a life you don't even want to live._

_ You won't feel lonely. You won't feel like you have to scream or rip yourself apart for someone to look at you. You won't ever cry again. You won't be hated. You won't be scorned. _

_That...that sounds good, right? Doesn't it?_

It does, and he hates it. But...he always wanted to die.

Kokichi knows that, now. The inevitable conclusion is finally here, and now that he's accepted it, relief comes in waves. He doesn't have to pretend anymore. He doesn't have to suffer, to endure. This is his out.

D.I.C.E., the mutual killing, Monokuma… School, his parents, his classmates…it's all so far from him, now.

He wonders if they'll ever forgive him.

He knows how this game will end. It's predictable, it'll go like clockwork. Kokichi doesn't want to take part anymore. In this? In anything. It's been such a long time coming.

But he wasn't boring, was he?

He put on a good show, right? Everyone had fun. They all looked at him, and acknowledged him, and he left an impression. He mattered, even if it was only in hatred.

He mattered.

He lived.

Kokichi Ouma existed.

As the curtain begins to fall, he sticks his head in the lion's mouth. The fangs are long and sharp, they pierce the skin,

and the jaws of the hydraulic press

snap shut.

 

**Author's Note:**

> howdy ho! just finished v3 in english and i felt i needed to rework this fic to do ouma proper justice. not too much changed, but my pride wouldn't allow it to stay up as it was. i feel bad i deleted it on impulse...


End file.
